[IC] GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.

[Rhona W]

Earlier

Nathanial turned to look Jed in the eye "It was lucky we found you before those bandits got to torture you for amusement away from the rest of the hostages." He said clearly and slowly, making sure the pine martin was listening and remembering what he said. "Am I right?"

Jed may have been scared and young, but he wasn't particularly dense - especially now he'd managed to get a chance to survive. Nathaniels' meaning was clear to the young Marten, and he nodded in understanding. "It was close," he answered clearly and firmly. "If I'd been there any longer, then they would've had me for sure. If it wasn't for you guys showing up..." he left the sentence hanging and looked between their faces for confirmation he'd said the right thing, clasping his hands together a little nervously. Now The only words offered up were from Ken, regarding his earlier mission and the assigning of a co-pilot. Blade took them with a nod - the younger man could certainly use some assistance, especially given that they'd likely be relying on the 'eye in the sky' a lot from now on both for their own support, and for the deployment of Esailia's team as well. The Captain in question looked as though she was about to speak up, but held her tongue. No one else had anything to offer, so Blade pressed on. Picking up his PADD, he toggled a few of the hovering holographic icons, dimming the room lights and projecting images from the debriefing on the wall. "The captives we recovered during the operation were a mixed bunch. They all came off of the Landcrawlers that Captain Sprinsteams' team investigated, and were split into three groups; two of them recovered, the third were relocated. "It seems, from interrogation of the surviving bandits, that those black-painted and heavily modified GEARs that were encountered outside of the mine were from a group separate to the bandits, and not allied to them; they were in the mine moments before we arrived, and were in search of a particular captive." He nodded to Esailia, as the screen displayed the Garzas, the couple that the fireteam had discovered in hiding inside the Landcrawler. "These two aren't actually straight-forward civilians. They actually openly declared themselves to the LDF once we had them in the debriefing room. Cynthia and Luke are actually Kynthia and Lukasz, and they're operatives for the Red Guard of the Imperial Family. One of the more elite units of the Northern Empires' Army, if you'd forgotten." He paused to let that sink in, before clicking onto another slide, a still picture of the same black GEARS the team had encountered, but this time with the heavily-scarred face of a male lynx alongside one. "They also revealed that the black GEARS are part of a special unit; they don't even have a real name among the Imperial Army. Their purpose is to hunt down and recover VIPs, defectors - from either side - or anyone else 'of interest' to the Imperial Army, and the Emperor. "Their target this time was Princess Angaria Velostroya. That's the Emperors Daughter." The face of a young adult black-furred vixen appeared on the screen. She was attractively fresh-faced, with a determined look in her green eyes. The family lineage to the head of the Empire was clear, but she lacked the burning insanity in her eyes her father possessed. "Intel from the Empire says that Dad and his Daughter disagree on a lot of things, but he loves her dearly. She's been a voice for more moderate approaches, but hasn't ever struck out on her own like this. If she's left home, then it means she's either been captured, or there's something afoot. Either way - the Red Guard operatives said that the bandits took her and split them up - but here's the doozy. The bandits only arrived after the 'crawlers had been disabled by another unit. The people who took them were fully clad in hi-tech body armour. They described it as sleeker and more refined than our own body armour or GEAR pilot suits, and that they had weaponry they didn't recognize. Whoever this unit were, they headed out on the same vector those fleeing GEARs and the landcruiser Ken pulled a recce of were in - so that's our next port of call. We head to the South, and to Martenstown. As it is, we need to drop off prisoners and re-provision, so we're gonna have to do a bit of bootwork to get any leads on who these guys are - pick up stories, snoop around, and go lookin' fer a bit of trouble. But we'll deal with that when we get closer to the place. In the mean time, I'm sure this time you might have some questions..."

[Esailia]

Jed may have been scared and young, but he wasn't particularly dense - especially now he'd managed to get a chance to survive. Nathaniels' meaning was clear to the young Marten, and he nodded in understanding. "It was close," he answered clearly and firmly. "If I'd been there any longer, then they would've had me for sure. If it wasn't for you guys showing up..." he left the sentence hanging and looked between their faces for confirmation he'd said the right thing, clasping his hands together a little nervously.

SilverwindBlade

Nathanial grasped Jed's arm, nodding "No joke. Now go on and get back to your family." he said, nudging the pine martin towards the ramp, before adjusting the rifle strap on his shoulder. "And let's hope we never see him again." He muttered towards Naida, who nodded in agreement. It had felt good, Nathanial finally settled on before coming to the meeting, to help a misled boy. But now he was having second thoughts if Jed had really been a timid pine martin. Was it real, or a farce to play on their compassion to let him go? He knew he was in deep trouble if anyone found out. But he couldn't be sure if Jed had been pulling his chain or not, and since Nathan couldn't control the dilemma at this point, he turned his focus towards his captain, whom must've been thinking the same thoughts, surely... But all Esailia was worried about was the way she herself was fooled by the facade of scared faces she had found in the crawler. She had even been given a bald faced fact that the husband was military, but he didn't say what kind or where he got his training. Esailia glanced up at Naida, the only member of the firesquad to actually remember something else from the crawler that hadn't been reported to Silver. "Sir, we didn't find only survivors from the crawler." the fox began, stepping forward with a small drive in had "The entire crawler looked spotless, as if a military unit had lived there. We did not question it at the time since our mission was to save hostages. But now, we wanted to be sure to bring it up. Why would the crawler be cleaned up? I believe this may have the answer." She held the drive up to Silver "We recovered surveillance footage from the crawler's security booth before we were attacked on the bridge." As Naida was standing in front of the entire debrief, Esailia spoke up "What about the child we found with these undercover operatives? Or the janitors and the third civilian? Were they cleared?"

[MachineSoul]

People were pouring in the room, making Aidan feel more and more nervous with each member of the Roughriders present; the only thing that he could hear or feel for a while was his heart bumping hard against his chest, putting the dog on the edge and full alert. Luckily, no questions came his way, so he tried to calm himself down a little, convinced that he looked like a scared deer. As the debrief went on, Aidan kept his eyes mostly to the papers, the only time he stopped scribbling was when the two downed pilots were mentioned; the dog sighed through his nostrils and closed his eyes during the recollection, only to be embraced by disappointment as images of Arcade's body poured into his mind. It appeared that the female goat, Myrina, had died too; he couldn't remember anything about her situation, but for a report of her going MIA or something similar to that. He felt even more guilty as Blade took most of the responsibility on himself, something Aidan did not agree with; he didn't quite have the occasion to counter his argument as his superior just dropped the bomb: they had another task coming up. That finally broke Aidan's focus and, his attention was drawn to the colonel, whom he listened carefully for the rest of the debrief. The situation was all sorts of FUBAR, every bit of information made it more and more unbelievable to his canine ears; his mouth slightly gaped open as he tried to process through the very delicate situation at hand. One wrong move and what could be a well thought-out plan would turn in a war against the empire; to Aidan, the risks definitely outweighed the possible outcomes, a situation that made him question the motive behind trying to mettle in an issue that, really, wasn't theirs to begin with. He chose not to speak his concern as it would plant a seed of doubt in his colleagues and the last thing he wanted to add to his own list of morally questionable deeds was inciting a revolt. The colonel was expecting questions, but did he expect for someone to question his decision-making? With all the mixed feelings he had, tension and the burning need to get an answer was added in there and the volume of his concerns was high enough for him to exhaust them out of his system by frantically tapping his heel against the floor. Ken and Es were the first to voice out their thoughts, only then noticing that the captain was there in the room, behaving as if nothing really happened a few hours earlier; Ken basically asked to get another pilot to help him, a sound idea that Aidan thought to consider for himself. Working alone was a tiring task, today's operation was proof of that; next time, he might not get as lucky, he couldn't be in two places at the same time. It was then Aidan's turn. He handled the papers to Blade along with his pen and pointed his finger at the dotted line where he was supposed to sign. "Sir, with all due respect-" he nearly bit his tongue as he wrongly formulated his speech intro, then quickly changed the subject "but I don't think you are accountable for today's tragedies. No one is. Throwing or assuming blames won't bring anyone back to life, but what we could do to honor them is to make sure their sacrifice was worthwhile and fight harder on the field. If things ran differently today, we wouldn't have become cautious for tomorrow's hardships." "How long'til we get to Martenstown, sir?"

[HopelessIncubus]

Finding Esailia well, mike nodded and wandered off to his quarters. stepping into the small alcove, he shrugged out of his harness, sounds of shredding Velcro and clinking buckles obnoxiously loud in the half dorm sized room. placing the exterior armor and harness on his dresser, he stretched. feeling like he wasted enough time, he grabbed his hygiene kit and a clean set of fatigues before trudging his way to the showers. "blessed be the providers of water and soap" mike muttered, returning to his room 20 mins later, the cloying dust that had just recently made his fur a grimy beige now was gone. a quick boot brushing later, little besides the dusty equipment on his dresser would give evidence of the operation earlier. taking a deep breath, he headed into the main hall and found a small recess to relax in until he was needed. he had just lapsed into a light, lazy half doze, ears tracking new arrivals, but quickly came to when blade came into the hall. He tried to keep his disbelief that he himself had done his best off his face, as blade congratulated them on their performance. it seemed like a bad joke, how many missed shots? how many impacts on prowler? if this was a test, he might have gotten unsatisfactory at best. regardless he kept his face neutral. "we have another mission. And you're not gonna believe what it is..." blade said. mike perked up at that, arching an eyebrow. he was surprised at the fact the custom gears were not simply bandits, or even mercs, but some sort of black ops group. apparently they struck, and used the local mercs as an attempted cover up for the abduction of a princess, he memorized the name, and took a good look at the picture, burning the faces in his mind. Extract princess, Show no mercy to the lynx. "secret military sector with unknown tech, and expertly trained?" mike asked scratching his head. "If I didn't tango with them earlier id say you were a chemtrail chaser, no offense sir."

[Rhona W]

Silverwind was again surprised by the general lack of questioning to the mission. Though, it was such a potentially volatile mission that stunned silence was an entirely understandable reaction too. Naida up, and she held up a drive in one slim paw.

The entire crawler looked spotless, as if a military unit had lived there. We did not question it at the time since our mission was to save hostages. But now, we wanted to be sure to bring it up. Why would the crawler be cleaned up? I believe this may have the answer." She held the drive up to Silver "We recovered surveillance footage from the crawler's security booth before we were attacked on the bridge."

He took the drive in his left hand, the plastic fingers closing around the drive with a slight click against the hard surface. "I'll pass this on to the signals and intel department - they'll get further with it than we will, and they've got the equipment and expertise. Thanks for turning it over. Regardin' the Crawler - well, the other members of the crew explained the captain, who's still missin', is ex-military and had kind of a military attitude t' runnin' his outfit. All the same, I agree that don't account fer all of it. Mebbe yer right, and this will tell us a lot more." He cocked his head as Esailia continued, his large ears twitching as he listened to her words.

"What about the child we found with these undercover operatives? Or the janitors and the third civilian? Were they cleared?"

"The third civvie and her kid were just that - civvies, an' the rest of th' crew were legit too. Like most 'crawlers, they take on passengers on charter, and some of 'em were travellin' around th' place. Th' operatives said they were travellin' incognito to blend in and avoid too much attention. It's slower than travellin' by air, but less obvious to anyone an' theres a lot less customs ta go through as well". He grimaced as he paused. "I'm not sure why the Emperors' daughter an' her bodyguards are travellin' incognito an' without any kinda retinue, an' I am especially not sure why their own people are after 'em. But I sure as hell think it's somethin' that bears lookin' into. Especially since there's a third party involved too and they're tearing up bits of Landren over whatever it is goin' on. It's out here in the tail-end of nowhere now, but I don't wanna think about what happens if they get somewhere populated". He turned to Mike and Aiden as they both spoke up in turn. He shut the projection off as he listened, and the room lights slowly climbed up to normal levels again as he took their comments and questions.

"Sir, with all due respect-" he nearly bit his tongue as he wrongly formulated his speech intro, then quickly changed the subject "but I don't think you are accountable for today's tragedies. No one is. Throwing or assuming blames won't bring anyone back to life, but what we could do to honor them is to make sure their sacrifice was worthwhile and fight harder on the field. If things ran differently today, we wouldn't have become cautious for tomorrow's hardships."

Silverwind fell quiet for a moment, his muzzle pursing into a thin line at the medics' words. He didn't disagree, but the burder of command was a heavy one: Responsibility for actions was his, as he issued the orders that sent everyone into the field and dictated their tactics. Accordingly, it was hard for him not to feel as though their deaths were on him. But experience - thankfully not too much of his own, but learning from others - told him that Aidan's words were right: It wasn't all on him. "I'm in command," he said, not angrily, but matter-of-factly, and calmly. "Which means that when I order any of you into the field to carry out a mission or a tactic, then I run the risk that my information or judgement could be wrong about a situation. I misjudged this situation, and executed my strategy poorly. I should have kept the GEARs together and made better use of Ken's overhead surveillance when assaulting the valley. And I should've held us back and waited for the Landcruiser when we assaulted the mine: the GEARs could have been better outfitted to back up the Captains' team with heavy, short-range firepower and sensors, while they picked off any anti-armour snipers for us. But that's hindsight. "Would I have done it differently again? Absolutely. But that won't bring back either of them, and that's something I have to live with. The memory of that is on me, and I have to explain to their families or loved ones why they aren't coming back home. Their memories will mean I do better next time, and that we'll all be harder, tougher and better next time."

"How long'til we get to Martenstown, sir?"

He checked the PADD and replied. "About eight hours travel from here, accountin' fer geo-magnetic interference, dust-storms and any other Badlands weird-ass shit between here an' there, naturally. So... probably double that" Mike was the last to speak up after the briefing, the feline looking confused as Blade had felt reading the briefing notes when he'd received them.

"secret military sector with unknown tech, and expertly trained?" mike asked scratching his head. "If I didn't tango with them earlier id say you were a chemtrail chaser, no offense sir."

Silverwind gave a short bark of a laugh and wagged his tail in reply. "None taken - I don't blame you fer sayin' it either. It's like I said right back when we shipped out - there's a whole lot of weird shit out here. An' there's probably a whole lot more we don't know about. After all, there's the whole South ta start with." He shook his head and shrugged, his expression hardening a little as he did so. "More seriously tho, I can't say what we'll be up against, or who. At least we got some advantage in seein' some of 'em in action, an' maybe that drive-" he wiggled it in the air "-will have some more answers too that we can go on. Best we can do is try an' find out as much as we can to remove all the mysteries an' get ourselves some facts. In the meantime..." He stood up from his leaning position, and took on a more somber air. "A short service will be held at nineteen-hundred hours fer Lieutenants Michelete and Arcade. Dress uniforms. Captains' also said the wardroom is ours afterward too, until midnight. In the meantime, yer all dismissed. I'll be in my office wi' the door open, or on my PADD if y'all need me fer anythin'" He gave a nod and a wave to the others, and crossed the room to the corner door for his office. Stepping in, he left the door open and settled into the chair behind the smallish desk. Now he had to write euologies for two people he barely knew, but make it sound like he'd known them well. He tapped a control on the touch-sensitive desktop, and holographic screens blurred into life in the air above the desk, along with further controls. '"Net, bring up the records for Lt. Michelete and Lt. Arcade". "Yes, Colonel Blade. One moment please", the omnipresent 'net replied in the ever-familiar and unchanging tone. Moments later the service and citizen records for both pilots appeared in the air above his desk. Leaning back in his chair, Blade sighed, propping his muzzle on his cybernetic arm and darting his single eye between the photographic portraits of the pair. Myrina looked the same as always: unconventionally attractive, her independent and feisty streak showing through even in an archived photo. Arcade looked as he always had, for the short time Blade had known the man: Surly, introspective and grumpy. More so than himself. How do I sum you both up? he thought with a groan and continued to stare at the photos.

[Esailia]

Naida saluted once more with a quick "Yessir. Thank you, Sir." Before walking back to her place beside her brother while Esailia slumped in her chair, rubbing her temple as the meeting continued. Things were not adding up in her head. Whether or not the captain of the crawler was ex military, the entire place was spotless, as if they intentionally cleaned up to hide what happened there. They had passed multiple rooms, not all crew quarters. Every one was cleaned up so nicely a drill sergeant would cry with joy... Nathanial took note of the captain's slumped form, and rested a hand on her shoulder, conveying so many words with a silent gesture. Naida and Edward were on Esailia's other side, muttering to themselves. "This isn't right." Naida mumbled out the side of her mouth. "What do you mean?" Edward leaned in to ask. "You don't clean up unless you're trying to hide something." "You heard him, the captain was ex-miltiary." "No, even passenger quarters were clean." "....what?" "Yeah, and what's more is that...how'd the three bandits get in without anyone seeing them? Unless they were-" "Already inside before you." "Yeah. Waiting to ambush." Edward tilted his head slightly, her brow furrowing "What if you surprised them?" "If that's what happened, why were they there?" Naida shot back. The siblings fell silent, both now thinking about possible answers to the riddle. As the debriefing came to an end, the Firesquad escorted Esailia back to her hospital room. "We've got eight hours of down time. Use them wisely." Esailia stated, laying back down on her bed. "I don't need supervision by anyone right now. Go, relax you three." The trio exited the room, looking at each other solemnly. It was only after a few minutes of silence did Nathanial finally speak up "I'm going for a drink, then sleep." before he walked off. Naida and Edward glanced at one another, and simply followed behind...

[Cartwright]

Kensington's gaze would drift around while each person spoke until the debriefing came to a conclusion. As the others stood idle and a few went to address either the captain or another teammate the wolf finally dropped his firm posture when he thought nobody was watching him and slowly slipped out of the room to return to the hangar where his helicopter rested. While there was still work to be done the airman was relieved to find his helicopter to not have a soul nearby it and he slowly approached the vehicle, his dirty hand in the pockets of his airman apparel as he scanned his surroundings before reaching his destination. With each step he took it felt as if the memories of the recent options crept up in his head, with that came an overwhelming sense of guilt and failure on his part. When he got to the chopper it was hard for Ken to stand, and soon he found himself turning around and sitting down on the edge of the entry point of his helicopter.. What if he had pushed himself harder? Would the now deceased subjects have survived if he had landed quicker or even got them home quicker? What could have been done differently? Such questions were tormenting the young pilot for a long time and he couldn't ignore them easily. Alone and with this burden on his shoulders, the pilot proceeded to run his hands through his hair and hold them there on his head, his eyes closed shut while he silently prayed for the world to at least stop for the sake of luxury.

[MachineSoul]

The dog could only nod respectfully to his superior's response and concluded that no matter how he would formulate his words, the man still felt guilty; Aidan could only hope it was a constructive sentiment that wouldn't get in duty's way. But, knowing that he'd come so far in military life, the dog trusted Blade could handle the situation without his own moral support. Ken, though, was a different story and he knew he had to be there for him, after all, Aidan was the one who smothered the wolf's helo and conscience with blood, charred fur and burnt flesh. Ken's mention of a co-pilot drew his attention, seeming like a good idea he should consider too. Another pair of hands and a brain would be helpful with mending people. He nodded again when Blade answered his question, muttering a low "alright", but when Blade doubled the number of hours, Aidan snorted in amusement and nodded harder. "Yes, that sounds more realistic to me." he said to that and then chuckled after Mike voiced his own thoughts. But the short moment of joy passed away as quick as the two dead pilots when the boss announced a small ceremony for them; he dreaded pulling out his most formal uniform again, feeling like the whole ordeal would never end. The air was somber, what was left of the once numerous squad had become sour after the loss of good pilots and now he felt the guilt too. He replayed the events in his head, thinking of any possible mistake he made, something that would actually be the true reason of Arcade's death; he tried to recall and count every bump he hit while carrying the wounded pilot to the chopper, trying to determine purely from memory which was the culprit. From there, he jumped again at his own procedures, trying to remember if he did anything he shouldn't have, if he bumped into Arcade, if he slipped or fucked something up; it all came to the point that he started to believe that everything he's done was wrong, so he pulled himself out of the dangerous corner of his mind and stomp himself back to reality, only to realize that mostly everyone was gone. He took a look around and figured that everyone must have gone to prepare for the ceremony, while Blade had to prepare some exalting words for two individuals he barely knew. The dog picked up his papers and taking a look at them, he saw that the colonel did not sign them and, really, who could blame the man? Responsibility couldn't be considered a mere burden, it was actually a plague gnawing at one's sanity and emotions, leaving behind a sour husk of a man with little life and joy. The officer had two more casualties on his list, a few papers were really an annoyance to him. And that was good. He wouldn't be in the proper mindset to question anything on those papers, which would help to cover Esailia's interesting condition with ignorance. He still needed those papers to be signed, so, he left the room last and navigated through the cruiser until he found Colonel Silverwind Blade's office using intuition and, of course, a few directions from the passing crew. Aidan made sure he knocked at the door and saluted him before he stepped inside. "I really hate to be interruptive, sir, but-" he raised the papers to suggest what had to be done "-as easy it would be to forge these papers, save everyone's time and get over with bureaucracy, I do believe you and me both have this thing called 'decency'." Aidan the Fucking Saint he heard a voice in his skull mocking him. "It's a stock report and four patient reports for Arcade, Captain Sprinsteam, Aihara and yours truly. I, uh, didn't even know Myrina was hit too, I wasn't announced." He gingerly handled the papers to the colonel and waited for them to be signed, thinking of voicing out his concern about the whole task, but seeing how stressed the man was, the last thing he needed was mistrust and doubt from his own squad, so Aidan didn't spill one word about it. He instead thought of suggesting something else. "Sir, if I may... I was thinking of Ken's idea, of having a co-pilot. I'm starting to consider that I might need another pair of helping hands; mine haven't fallen off yet, but as you can see, one's in the incipient process." He pointed at his wounded bicep. "There's only so much one well-trained dog can do. Two of them, on the other hand, could prevent disasters such as this. Worst case scenario, we'll have a fresh pair of hands ready to help. Or, get shot at, both work for me, I get to keep my job and my integrity." "But now, seriously, I am considering to place a request, sir. I know a few good guys back at 137^th I trust enough to have them rummage through my own innards for bullets, and that says a lot." He allowed Blade to speak and once he was finished, Aidan bowed slightly, saluted and took his leave. Before he exited the door, he glanced over his shoulder to chip in a last thought. "If I may... I suggest replacing "heroic" or "brave" with paragon and valiant. It gives them this epic kind of feel." With that done, Aidan knew he had to search for a certain Kensington Maxwell, so he headed the first place he suspected he would find him: the helipad. He didn't find him the first try, but he easily recognized the Sky Hawk once he hit the right helipad, only to find the pilot sunken deep in his own haunting thoughts. Aidan swallowed emptily and sighed slowly afterwards, knowing exactly how infuriated and helpless the pilot felt. He approached him slowly and took a spot on the helipad itself in front of Ken and looked up at him. He let the man have a few more moments to himself before he broke the silence. The tension was palpable and Aidan felt it was best for Ken to out the frustration, so he nudged at his leg. "Spill it out. Everything. You'll feel better. Don't think no more, just talk it out."

[Ramzam]

After the squad dismissed, Adrian immediately retreated to his room, and stripped, before he took a grooming brush to himself and slowly, but surely weeded the loose hairs out of his coat. The time he spent turning from white to brown left him to think back on the mission so far, and the fluidity of the Roughriders’ numbers. There were definitely those that had managed to stick around, but between the death and the surprise transfers, the revolving door effect made it incredibly hard to gauge who would stick around and who wouldn’t. “I was almost a part of the problem, too.” He rubbed his face and put his clothes back on and reentered the common room to find that most everybody had gone to do other things, while he was busy fussing over his looks. It took him some time to find Silver’s office—whole months into his station on the Claw as he was—and he was just in time to catch Aidan passing through the doorway. Curious, Adrian pressed an ear up against the door and eavesdropped on the conversation between Aidan and Silver—one-sided as it may have felt. Everybody’s beating themselves up over it… And here I am, complaining about my shedding fur. He sighed. At least they can still feel bad about it, he thought as he stepped away from the door and watched Aidan head off to another part of the cruiser. He stood outside Silver’s office for a few minutes, before he finally entered. “Hey, Captain,” he tossed out a greeting in his quiet voice, developed from years of comrades with sensitive ears. “I, uh, wanted to make sure I thanked you. You know, looking out for me like you did in the mines…” The tall hare reached up and ran a hand along his ear, pulling off a number of white hairs in the process. “Would’ve been a little disappointing, that I let it end right after I got to a new unit.” He crossed his arms. “So, yeah.” He gestured to the door behind himself. “You want me to leave you alone, or…?”

[Rhona W]

Silverwind sat in the large chair behind his desk and stared at the pair of faces that stared back, hovering on the images in the air above his desk. His left index finger was poised over the virtual keyboard, similarly projected above the surface of the table. Every few moments, he made to type a letter, to write a word, before drawing back and re-considering. The sounds from the main room had drifted down to little more than the squadrons' movements as they came and went from their quarters, and he managed to restrain himself from fully bolting out of his seat when Aidan rapped on the door to his office. Looking up, the vulpine gave a nod as the corpsman indicated the papers, waving him in and gesturing to the chair in front of the desk in his small yet functional ready-room/office.

"It's a stock report and four patient reports for Arcade, Captain Sprinsteam, Aihara and yours truly. I, uh, didn't even know Myrina was hit too, I wasn't announced."

Silverwind dragged the papers across the table, momentarily dismissing the keyboard with a gesture as he retrieved a pen from a holder made out of an old 40mm shell case on the tabletop. "Myrina was a shock to me, too", he added in reply as he signed his name in a left-handed scrawl across the bottom of the papers. "Seems like she was ambushed, and her GEARs' commo system was completely knocked out; the word only came in after the battle had ended. With the heavy interference in the area too..." he trailed off. The rest of the story didn't need to be elaborated upon. He returned the papers to Aidan and looked over at the medic. He'd proved himself to be a superbly capable asset and highly reliable. Blade listened, ears pricked, as the canine described his predicament, and gestured to his wound. The one-eyed fox raised an eyebrow at that; evidently it wasn't too serious, but then a wound was a wound.

"But now, seriously, I am considering to place a request, sir. I know a few good guys back at 137th I trust enough to have them rummage through my own innards for bullets, and that says a lot."

Silverwind sat back in the chair, and nodded. "With the losses we've had, and our general staffing levels, we're pretty stretched out. Not to mention, we're building this unit from the ground up. Between us? I have a feeling; based on my experiences from the past, that whatever we've stumbled into is going to get bigger. If you can suggest anyone else for the unit, then by all means get me a personnel profile together and send it over. I'll see if we can get them assigned." The fox hesitated, and then nodded with a tight smile. Aidan got up to leave, and Silverwind returned his salue with his normal casual flourish. The canine paused in the doorway to offer some last words of support, and Blade looked after him, muzzle propped on both interlaced hands, before he began to type, finally finding the right words. He'd barely started, before another familiar scent tickled his nose, followed by a soft-voiced announcement of Adrians' own arrival. He looked up at the lapine, and gave a slight smile and a wag of his tail at his thanks. "You don't need t' thank me Keel, lookin' after my people is what I'm s'posed to do... despite what happened today. Glad that I did manage to keep y'all outta trouble an' all too." The tall hare made to excuse himself, and Blade gestured to the seat. "Yer welcome t' sit down. Like I said a'fore. My door's pretty much always open if y'all wanna talk. 'Sides, I like the company now an' then too. He leaned back in the seat and shifted, still propping his head up on one hand, before closing down the images. "Y'know, I said before, at the end of that first exercise, that the brass are chasin' our heels. With the amount of drop-outs we've had, combined with the casualties we've had now, we're almost down to half our initial strength. Especially for GEARs, an' that's gonna hurt our strategies in th' long term. We lose any more people or equipment, then the higher ups' ain't gonna need to kill us off". He sighed and shifted again, sitting up straight. "I'm sorry," he began again, "this prob'ly ain't exactly th' thing y'all wanna here t' keep ya motivated, is it?" He gave a shake of his head with a rueful smile. "I'm glad yer with us. Y'all showed plenty of skill in the battle, an' with the trainin' earlier on too. Yer clear-headed in a jam, an' havin' someone with combat experience is always good. Hope y'all decide to stick around as well, an' that we get more of a chance to speak when things aren't so..." he waved a hand towards the desk, indicating the somber affair of the downed pilots. "...bleak. Like I said - if y'all ever need anythin', then lemme know. In the meantime, I guess I'd better do my commanders' duties, and start writin'". A few short hours later - sooner than he'd have liked - Blade stood in the hangar, which had been temporarily re-arranged. The GEARs, most of the way through their maintenance and with their exterior armour still removed, were each covered in drapings the royal blue colour of the Landren flag. Myrina and Arcades' own GEARs had each been moved to the head of the bay, polished and waxed, and draped with a sash bearing the devices and symbols representing their pilots' own awards and accolades. The rest of the ships' complement, barring essential personnel, had turned out for the short memorial service. In the centre of the bay, the two blackwood tree caskets gleamed under the bright lights. Each was draped with the standard of the LDF. Blade stood at the head of the group, his dress uniform virtually immaculate and cutting a dashing, if severe, image. The Roughriders had been detailed to stand at the front of the assembly, with the rest of the group behind them. The last few members of the assembly filed in, and the nervous shifting, coughs and murmurs rebounded around the stillness of the bay, before Blade eyed the assembly. Casting his single-eyed glance around, he drew himself to ramrod straight, and bellowed in his best voice: "DETAIL! A-TEN HUT!" He waited for the shifting of feet coming together and bodies coming to attention to fade, before he stepped up to the podium. "At ease," he said in a quieter, more somber tone. "Thank you. We gather today to remember and honour the lives of two of our own. Each of us has pledged our service to the ideals of the Landren Defence Force, and all of us stand ready to answer the call to arms and duty. "Many of us have faced danger in course of our service; some of us have even come back from the cauldron of battle wounded, either inside or out. None of us can predict how we will react, how our colleagues, our comrades and brothers-and-sisters in arms, will react emotionally, physically or otherwise when they are faced with the insanity of the battlefield. We can only hope that the oaths we have sworn, the training we prepare our hearts and minds with, and the people we stand alongside, will be enough for us to face down the challenges upon us." He paused, looking out across the arrayed faces. He looked over the arrayed ranks of the ships' crew, their varied features, fur, eye and hair colours, the men and women looking back. He saw sadness, fear, anger, and all manner of emotions. He looked at his own people, his Roughriders - what did they think? What words were going through their minds? He straightened again, and continued. "Arcade Ruthless and Myrina Michelete were both experienced GEAR pilots, and LDF personnel. Both of them had proven their skill and expertise in numerous missions, operating with professionalism, skill, dedication and finesse in their careers. While other commanders may have questioned their methods, citing them as 'problematic' or defiant, the force of their unique characters, their strong and versatile personalities, made them the dynamic people they were, both in and out of combat. The achievements and records speak for them," he said, gesturing with one hand to the GEARs flanking the assembly on both sides of the bay, and standing twice the height of the assembled Arvarans. "And they will live on. It is important, for all of us, to remember the people they were, as well as the things they have done. While they were not part of our brotherhood for long, they were influential in our formative stages, knitting us together and helping us define what it means to be one of the Roughriders with their driving personalities, influential ideas and tactics, and their words and thoughts to all of us both in the Roughriders and aboard the Parvan's Claw. He paused. What more could he add? The pair of them had been good fighters, had done their best, and bad luck and overwhelming force had taken them down. It was a strangling, complex web of feelings that ran through him, and no doubt through the rest of the crew as well; the realization it could happen to anyone would be strong. What more could he say, how he could he shore up their doubts and fears? Gripping the edges of the podium, the electrofiber muscles in his left arm humming quietly, he cast a one-eyed gaze over them all. "Lieutenant-Colonel Michelete and Second Lieutenant Ruthless were expert warfighters in their field. None of us here could have predicted what would happen to them. Their being cut down in the line of duty is a sad and terrible thing. But we must use it to become stronger. Their memory is something that will bring us together, unite us in their loss and departure to become better, harder, more resolute and more dedicated. This way we go forward with them strong in our hearts and minds, so that others may survive and endure, and their losses were not in vain. Stand tall with me now, and let us all remember them well, fondly and proudly." Once again, he called the room to attention as the Landren National Anthem played. As the music reached its' crescendo, he raised a salute, and held it for a few moments, before lowering his hand. Smartly turning on one heel, he marched to one side of the podium, where Captain Garrett, also dressed in her own formal uniform, presented him with the folded flag from each coffin. He'd turn them over after the ceremony, of course, to another crew member. Myrina and Arcades' remains would be released to their families, along with the folded flags. It wasn't much, but it was something. The doe saluted him smartly, her crisp white glove touching the brim of her captains' cap. Blade returned the salute smartly and slowly, his own glove pausing just at his eyebrow, below the rim of his beret. They held the posture for a few heartbeats, before each smartly turning 90-degrees. Blade joined the end of the Roughriders' line, and Captain Garrett took the podium. "Thank you all," she said in a crisp, clear and calm tone. "We shall all remember Michelete and Ruthless. They were invaluable to this crew, and to this vessel. As is customary, there will now be a gathering to celebrate their lives and achievements in the mess. Please, if your duties allow, join us there to toast to their memories. Company, dismissed" Everyone began to drift away as they fell out by ranks. The captain nodded toward the Roughriders, stepping briefly to their side as she made her way out of the hangar. "Ladies, gentlemen; you'll be pleased to know that I'll be fetching a bottle from my own personal stash to raise in a toast with you all to the memory of our friends. I hope to see you in the Mess shortly." She nodded and headed off, before Blade turned back to the others. "Okay, folks. I ain't gonna make it an order... but I'm sure as hell heading to the mess, an' raisin' a glass or twelve to our departed friends, and to our own lives and futures. I'd appreciate it if y'all join me. Drinks are on me fer the first round, and I'll be happy to talk my jaw off with all an' any of y'all there." Silverwind lead the way up to the mess. The counter was stocked with a small assortment of spirits, beers and wines from the limited array normally kept under lock-and-key on the land-ship, and a small buffet of foods had been laid out. A table draped with black cloth at the end of the room held framed photos of Myrina and Arcade, both from files of friends, or from social networking or albums on the 'net. Between the photos, a Roughriders uniform jacket had been laid out. Scrawled signatures and memorials were slowly increasing across the jacket, added to as the guests at the wake drifted to the table, raising a glass to the photos. Blade stepped almost straight to the bar, pouring himself a fine helping of amber fire-whiskey (the spirit of his home region in Landren), with ice, and moving aside, exchanging brief greetings with others. "Drink up, team," he said to the others around him. "We have to let our departed know we remember 'em as the hell-raising, ass-kicking, stubborn, stalwart hard-as-nails Rough-Riding mothers they were. We mourned 'em, now we celebrate 'em for the hell-raisers, heart-breakers and life-takers the Roughriders are. Here's to them!" He raised the glass with a loud bark, and gulped almost the whole amount down his muzzle, and shouted: "ROUGHRIDERS!" The rest of the room cheered, and Captain Garret gave him - and the rest of them - a cheer and a smile. Smiling to his men and women, he looked to all of them as he spoke. "I'm sure y'all might not be aware of this, but you're not the first Roughriders I've been part of. There was another unit, some years ago, that I was part of. We were good, really good. Irry-" he indicated the red panda, who nodded and held up a glass "had a brother who was part of it an' all. And Captain Garrett also worked pretty close wi' us too. Anyhow, we had a whole buncha traditions, things I think that oughta carry on to this version of the unit too". He smirked and cocked his head. "Maybe if the drinks flow well, I'll teach you all our song-" (Captain Garrett coughed into her hand and hid a smile. Silverwind didn't notice) "-One is, we celebrate our fallen, an' fight hard fer all of 'em. Like I said 'afore. Y'all did well out there, an' I'm proud of all of you. Y'all have earned a celebration, an' ain't no one who disagrees with us raisin' a glass or five to our fallen. We'll get our own back fer 'em. Let's do 'em all proud!"

[Cartwright]

Kensington had blocked out the entire world around him during his moment, and when he felt a nudge the pilot almost jumped with a startle, his attention shooting to Aidan with the look of sorrow in them, a look that faded away rather quickly. "A-Aiden how l-" He stopped himself to listen to the medic, and hearing the words from someone who was there was the only reason the airman decided to speak up, but only after a long pause. "... Where do I start? Well.. Dammit I.." And just then he tensed up and began saying whatever came into his mind. "How am I suppose to keep on after that? I know I am trained but.. I was pulled out of transportation detail! I wasn't suppose to have this kind of responsibility... I was just suppose to fly and that was it, right? When did it all fucking change from support to being the element that decided someone's death or not. I.. I-" Just then the senior airman, a young adult broke down into whimpering and sobbing, chanting about how he had screwed up and gotten both teammates killed. "If I had gotten into the sky, if I just trusted you guys and landed in the first place, maybe we would've had the time necessary to get them home, right?" After all of that he had the opportunity to settle down, despite the bit of water works he had. During the silence the airman took the time to wipe away the tears before looking up at the doctor, giving him a weak smile. "Pretty pathetic, huh?"

[Shadowman215]

Kuraiko, had a set face even as he toasted with Blade, he was enjoying the celebration. Though to him, he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be drinking. So he tried to elude much alcohol, but he did enjoy a glass or two. Though his mind was elsewhere, his mind was on the men who took the lives of Myrina and Arcade, and how badly he wanted payback. How big a debt they owed, it was one hell of a loan that they took from the RoughRiders, and Kuraiko wanted no more than to make them pay the toll fully. With their blood. Even so, he needed to relax at least a little bit. He shouldn't let his desire for payback dominate his thoughts, there were friends all around, and a shit ton of food and booze. So...he guessed he may as well get tipsy. Though right after he thought that, he smiled at how badly he would regret those words. Soon he was chuckling to himself, realizing it wouldn't be as bad, unless Aidan kicked his ass for his earlier screw-ups, then things may be regrettable. Outside that, the little gathering held prominence for a way to lighten them for their mission in Martenstown. Which after he was done here, he would be right off to prep for, cleaning his firearms, checking his gear. Then re-read the briefing a couple times to be familiar with what the assignment was, then get right to work. Today was the start of a life he did not expect having, but damn he was proud to have it with these lunatics.

[HopelessIncubus]

After being dismissed, all mike wanted to do, was find a cheap bottle of rum or vodka, and a dark corner, but today would not be so kind. finding himself empty of words worthy of his fallen teammates, he returned to his room, and found the dress uniform he despised so much. the fit was perfect, the color a deep, and rich shade, the cut striking and fit for royalty...or a funeral. mike loathed the uniform. despite all the hype, he saw a wool blanket. it was too hot, too tight, the brass to bright. he continued listing the problems with the uniform in his mind, as he took out the iron, and sat the uniform on a collapsible board, waiting for the iron to beep. he had made sure to clearly state he wanted to be buried in fatigues, he tried to press that the service be held in fatigues, or plain clothes, but it had been "revised without his notice" the iron gave a cheery tone, and mike began to smooth the imaginary wrinkles from the dark material. a short time later, mike stood in the gear bay, trying like everything not to look like he wanted to shred his uniform and leap into the comfortable confines of Prowlers cockpit. "DETAIL! A-TEN HUT!" Blade's voice bellowed, bringing mike to the present. listening with the determination that can only be found during a funeral, mike looked at the coffins. it wasn't until he was dismissed, that any animation could be seen. mike immediately loosened his collar. he joined the slightly enlivened crew to file into the mess. picking out a decent bottle of cinnamon whisky, he poured a generous amount in a cup, and filled the rest with cider. hearing Blade's toast, he tossed back a third of it, rasping out a enthusiastic "ROUGHRIDERS" with the rest, before eyeing his drink. he didn't think it was that strong. considering the last day, he could use it. sharing a sad smile, and remembering the fallen, mike floated among the group.

[MachineSoul]

The dog listened to Ken's lament and lowered his head, trying to veer his eyes off the pilot in case he got too nervous to unleash his inner torment. Like he expected, the airman had quite a load to take off his heart and no doubt it took effort to pull out his fears and thoughts out to the light. Hearing him sob pulled Aidan's gaze back up and drew a sigh from his chest; he refrained from trying to comfort him with a friendly pat on the shoulder or any word at all, he first had to put everything out so that there was nothing left but enough space for more positive thoughts. By the time he was finished and ended in a tough self-criticism, Aidan tisked and shook his head in disapproval, a sort of smile taking over his snout and eyes.

"You know what would have made you pathetic, Kensington?" He said in a low tone, expecting no answer from the pilot. "If you didn't have these feelings and thoughts you told me. It would have worried me to know you're completely unfazed by such a tragedy; don't let the illusion that everyone else copes better with death fool you, everyone suffers in their own way. And you hold no responsibility, and hear me out on this."

Aidan cleared his throat, stood up and took a seat beside the pilot, at enough distance to be heard but not close enough to violate personal space.

"Arcade died because I chose to make it my responsibility. I didn't want to pass a dying corpse to the medical team on board the cruiser. To me, it felt like I was trying to rid myself of responsibility and shove the problem off my shoulders and dump it in someone else's lap. They would have reached the same conclusion: he is a dying man, he needs to rest. And if you really want to throw a blame, put it on me. I was the one who decided to let Arcade die sooner, but not because I've gotten tired from keeping him alive; can you call it pride, though? Maybe. His life was in my hands from the beginning of the op and I wanted it to end by my hands."

"But you did nothing wrong. You've did your job exquisitely and you've even stepped beyond your boundaries, got out of the chopper's safety and helped me with Aihara; there's really nothing to reproach about your performance, Ken, I mean it! It's okay that you feel sorrow for losing one of our guys, even if we just met him, but just because it was your chopper that hauled him back to base doesn't tag you as guilty for anything. Even if it were somebody else's helicopter, or what other evac vehicle you can think of, Arcade was still a frying hunk of meat that would die sooner or later. In retrospect, maybe it would have been better to leave him there, in his GEAR. I'm not trying to be cruel or cold here, Ken, but what I am trying to do is to show you that no matter how hard you try to blame yourself for any of this, you're wasting your breath and thinking power: you've done a superb job and I can swear here, and in front of other people, that you just have to be the best medevac pilot I've had the chance to work with. I haven't met a medevac pilot that would willingly take the risk of stepping out of their comfortable seat and even glance at the wounded, let alone throw in a helping hand."

"So, tonight, I will toast for our fallen pilots, Myrina and Arcade, and to my new favorite medevac pilot, Kensington Maxwell. And if I promised you a six pack, you'll get it. Come on, champ-" he threw a healthy pat on the wolf's back to put him into motion "-get handsome and let's commemorate our guys, drown that sadness and when the time comes again, we'll burn and wreck whoever brought this sadness unto us. Return the favor. You agree, pilot?"

There was a certain heaviness in the air during the ceremony, Aidan could feel it with his fingertips; he wasn't too sure if people were indeed feeling bad for losing two GEAR pilots, though. It could be they were fearing what would come of the cruiser during the next mission, a much more daunting and delicate task that could mean the beginning of a war. The medic kept silent throughout the whole speech, but later, he raised his glass high and let his chest roar with the name of his unit "RUOGHRIDERS!"; he lowered his glass down for a little while, turned towards Ken and raised it again while he bowed his head down to him. The contents of the glass had a nice taste, a good sting to keep his throat warm, but an after-taste he wasn't sure if he wanted to let it linger for too long, so he quickly took another sip almost reflexively. It would be the only few milliliters of alcohol he would allow himself to drink, he didn't want to get too drowsy for tonight's special watch, but, he still had to fulfill his promise to Ken, so while most of the Riders were chattering, Aidan slipped unnoticed to the bar and paid for six bottles of cold beer, which he skilfully carried back to the group and placed them in front of Kensington.

"A promise is a promise." He stated with a tired smile. "I toast for our dear Kensington Maxwell for being THE best chopper pilot I had the honor to work with. I'd also like to toast for Captain Sprinsteam, a woman who saved my life and just nearly lost hers in the effort, to Adrian here for being a good sport, Michael Nawlin for keeping our backs safe throughout. Kuraiko Aihara, I'm almost out of energy, but I swore that I would murder you if you got killed while I was away, so expect a punch tomorrow at 0850 hours. To Naida, Ed and Nathan for their bravery and dedication. Finally, to Silverwind Blade, for whom I cannot find words to describe his... awesomeoness? That sounds bad. What I can say, though, he is an inspiration for this unit, a good leader and a good friend. Times will get harder, but together, we will harden and pull through. May the stars have mercy on our enemies, for we shall not. Roughriders."

He couldn't pull himself to yell again as his voice slowly failed him, exhaustion taking a toll on his body; he instead raised his hand and bowed his head solemnly.

[Esailia]

The Firesquad spent their time before the funeral taking turns keeping an eye on Esailia while the others dressed for the gathering, keeping nurses from looking too closely at Esailia's light coughs or keeping the reddened paper towels from being seen. With her squad dressed, the trio came back with Esailia's uniform, and giving her privacy to get dressed herself.

Esailia walked with a firm posture down the hallways towards the funeral, her squad behind her single file. They entered into the room and quickly took their place near the back of the formation. Each one listened intently, and saluted upon command. It was their first mission with the Rough Riders, and the outfit already lost two of their own..."If I had known...I would have urged for Edward and Nathanial to back up the GEARs...the vulcan would have prevented these deaths..." Was all Esailia was thinking, closing her eyes to honor the fallen.

It was a little later, after the funeral and after others already arrived in the Mess, when the Firesquad entered, Esailia leading the way. She had convinced a nurse to let her have this time, and promised not to drink anything alcoholic. At the door, Captain Sprinstream nodded once, letting Nathanial and Naida go their own ways, while Edward remained at her side voluntarily.

The tiger went straight for the bar with Naida, where both got some heavy drinks and started into them with vigor, while Esailia and Edward approached Silver. "Sir." She saluted, with Edward mirroring his captain behind her. "I feel for the loss to the Riders. I also know the weight that sits upon your shoulders." She sat down beside Silver, and glanced at Edward "I am fine for now, private. Go, drink."

Edward looked a bit lost for a moment, but nodded "Yes, ma'am." Before headed for his sister and Nathanial. The Captain looked back at Silver "I have had thoughts of how I could have affected that mission countless times since waking up in the infirmary. I should have kept Nathanial in the ATCV, gunning the vulcan to give the GEARs extra covering fire. I should have expected an ambush inside before going into the Crawler. So many more 'I should have's. I'm not here to tell you what you did was right or wrong. No one can predict every outcome of a mission. Be it training or a blind date with Death. I'm here to tell you that you are not the only one with command responsibility who is second guessing themselves."

Esailia leaned back in her seat, and waved to the bartender "Soy milk, touch of vanilla bean." she called before she looked back at Silver "Now, let's drink to the impending deaths of the bastards that did this."

[Cartwright]

Kensington listened to his comrade's words as if they were the light in his time of darkness. He wanted to object some of what the man said, but he really wasn't in the position to do so, after all he was the pilot not the doctor. He kept his head down throughout the whole thing until he felt a hand on his back, Aidan's hand. His pat got the pilot onto his feet, and a rejuvenated sense of confidence in his stance. Before they parted to changr uniforms the airman reached out and grabbed Aiden by the sleeve and cleared his throat. "Aidan..." He said, his voice soft and quiet, "We can do better next time, right? We can save the next person if we have the opportunity to do so, right?" He didn't expect an immediate answer, but he nodded and walked past the doctor to get his uniform changed out. It was obvious he wasn't going to mentally recover with just the words of a friend, but that is where time will play a crucial part.

The ceremony was one the airman had wished to transition quickly. To him it was not only a time to respect their death, it was also a painful reminder that these were the faces he wont physically be able to see again. Just that thought messed with the pilot and his troubles were easy to detect despite how respectful the wolf presented himself. Over time the ceremony went through with Silver's speech and the mixture of emotions drifting around. Like all things though the ceremony came to an end, and Kensington did not hesitate to take up the invitation for what kind of teammate would he be if he stayed isolated from his group?

Despite the announcements and commendations Ken found it hard to transition, his left hand in a jacket pocket while his right hand held his drink. Unlike most of the roughriders the airman had a secret: he had never really touched alcohol before. There were reasons, but the main one was the fact he flew airborne vehicles, but all that was about to change when Aidan offered a six pack and gave praise to him. He was caught off guard when the imaginary spotlight was set on him and all he could do was nod with a smile before downing the rest of his drink and setting the cup aside to take a can. "Aidan this is kinda... A first for me. How strong is this?" The pilot said, a bit hesitant about this idea. What would a drunk Kensington look like? Could he keep himself in check? He was about to find out.

[Rhona W]

As the wake progressed, the tone was somber, but had the normal larger-than-life atmosphere one would expect of any group of soldiers under the influence of alcohol and strong emotions. While things didn't get rowdy, they were vibrant.
Silverwind looked over as Esailia sat down alongside him, tipping his glass to her in greeting. He cocked one black ear as she spoke, the glass to his lips as he listened. He took a sip before answering, and removed his beret, running one hand through his short grey-and-brown head-fur before he spoke in answer.
"You're right about the 'could haves' and 'might have beens'. I spent so much of the time before writin' the words I said earlier just goin' over things in my head and wrackin' over what I coulda done different. I coulda done any one of a dozen things different, an' who even knows if it woulda changed anything." He gave a deep sigh as he picked up his drink again, nodding at her further comments about command. "Yeah, I know it ain't just me. It's kind of a weird situation; having your team in my team as part of my command. An' then throwin' Ken inta the mix too, makin' it all fit together is gonna be a heck of a learnin' curve. But maybe yer right - goin' after the assholes who took down our people might give us somethin' to bring us together".

The evening wound down slowly as people drifted off to sleep in advance of their next duty shift, and before too long it was Silverwind's turn to call the others to do the same. Their journey to Martenstown was halfway through, and they'd need to be ready the next day. He excused himself and reminded them all politely of the time and their duties, before heading off to his cabin in their squadrons' area of the landcruisers' cramped confines.
Settling onto his bed after completing his ablutions, he stared at the ceiling in the dark. His head was thickened and slowed with the alcohol he'd consumed, and he was thankful for the blessed grip of sleep clawing its' way through his head and beckoning him into its' embrace. He'd managed to restrain himself during the party, not draining the whole bottle of whisky, though he'd been tempted as soon as its' aroma touched his nose. More so, with the trials of the day. The thoughts blurred together his single, heavy eyelid drooped into place and he collapsed into a sleep full of choppy, distorted dreams.

***

The next morning, Blade was grateful for the lack of a hangover. He'd risen a little over an hour ago, going through his PT routine before chow-time, and was now waiting the communal area. He had his PADD to hand, and was surrounded by a small cloud of holographic displays floating in the air around him. His eye flicked between them as he tapped icons on each and scanned information, while waiting for the others to emerge.
The Claw had made excellent time. As he'd predicted, albeit tongue in cheek, the journey had been delayed by the nature of the Badlands themselves. They were now two hours out. Time enough to brief the group, and implement a strategy. Assaulting the town with firepower wasn't a plan of any kind - this was a situation that called for investigation, scouting, and gathering information carefully and craftily.
The Claw would be off-loading it's gaggle of captives to another LDF vessel, giving it more than a legitimate reason to be there, and for its' crew to be out and around in the town itself. Although, it's being on the Landren border was good enough reason itself.
Taking a sip from a cup of tea on the table, he collapsed down the windows and shut off the PADD for the moment; he'd have to wait for the others before any more could be done. He had something of a plan, but he'd need them to get anywhere with it. As such, he crossed one leg over the other and leant back on the sofa and waited for the rest of the group to emerge before giving his briefing.
Maybe the smell of the warm pastries he was eating would rouse them quicker.

[Esailia]

The night was one of drinking and taunting the unknown enemy that they faced for the firesquad. Nathanial for his part was totally plastered before lights out, and the siblings had found the company of their own types of personnel. Naida had fallen in with a group of gunners for the Claw, Edward found himself exchanging engineering and technological theories with some of the engineering crew. They all were blowing off steam as they should, sweeping sorrow and anger under the rug for tomorrow. Esailia had stayed with Silver a while longer, drinking her soy milk lightly and conversing with her CO.

But eventually the night tapered off, with the firesquad trickling out to their own quarters at one point or another, and Esailia making her way back to the infirmary with the help of a passing crewman.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The following morning, Esailia was the first up of the firesquad, insisting to the nurses to let her out of her room so she could be with the rest of her team and the Rough Riders. It took a bit of doing, but she finally walked into the room where Silver resided. Esailia gave him a firm salute and took a seat nearby.

"That was a night I'm sure half the crew won't remember, and the rest will never forget." She commented, chuckling quietly.

[Ramzam]

Morning and Adrian had never quite gotten along, not since his time in Treminia. It had always been bad enough that his night’s sleep was fitful at best, but the annoyance sunlight seemed to serve little more purpose than to keep him from getting any rest. But, being in the sunless quarters of the Claw, that was hardly an excuse. Lucky me, he thought, as he rolled out of bed, At least I get to wake up.

The deaths of his comrades bothered him, but only on the same level as hearing of an acquaintance’s passing. He had known and worked with them for around a month, sure, but it wasn’t as though Adrian had put much effort into getting to know his comrades. The fact that he hadn’t been there to see them pass from the world of the living did nothing to help the matter.

A quarter of an hour after he’d awoken, Adrian shuffled into the common quarters with half of his face on the floor, and he didn’t have much to say to anybody occupying the room with him, other than, “Hey, are those croissants?”

[Rhona W]

Silverwind looked up as Esailia entered the common area attached to the Roughriders' quarters, nodding in greeting as she sat down. He returned her salute with a casual touch of his fingers to his forehead and gave a slight smile as she spoke up. He chuckled softly at her words, his tail wagging a little in agreement.
"Yeah, sure was the right kind of party. I think it helped everyone get a few things outta their systems, and wind down after the op. Although," he added with a frown. "Seems like everyone partied a little too hard, considerin' yer the first person to make it here".

No sooner had the words left his muzzle, than Adrian shuffled zombie-like into the common area. The hare was obviously feeling the effects of last night, and Blade kept half a smirk off of his muzzle at the sight. He nodded in reply to his question about the pastries, and gestured freely to the stacked plate.
"Sure are, and help yourself. There's plenty to go around." He let the marksman dig in, and drummed his artificial fingers on the arm of the chair for a few moments as he flicked his eye from door to door of the rest of the squads' rooms, before pushing himself up out of the chair.
"Welp, I've waited long enough... you two might want to cover your ears."
He crossed to the bulkhead and the attached intercom panel, speaking to the ships' CIC rapidly in a low voice. A moment later he gestured to Es and especially Adrian, with his sensitive hearing, to cover their ears. Uncovering the red emergency alarm button and toggling a switch, he pressed down the button, sending a blaring, shrill alarm tone through the compartment.

That ought to wake them up.